


i'll take care of you

by nanasekei



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2019 Fills [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hair Brushing, Human Disaster Tony Stark, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21413257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: “Hi.”Steve blinks. The sound of loud thunder roars outside, but he doesn’t jolt, too focused on the image in front of him to be startled by the noise.He has no idea what to say, and he isn’t sure if the shock is because of Tony’s absolutelysoddenstate – his hair glued to his forehead, his clothes dripping with water, forming a small puddle in front of Steve’s door – or because he wasn’t expecting to see Tony for at least three more days.“Hi?” he says, a little tentative, before his brain catches up to reality. In his defense, he was getting ready to sleep when Tony knocked. He looks at what Tony is holding – a wet mess that seems to have been a flower bouquet at some point. “What are you doing here?”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2019 Fills [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485866
Comments: 57
Kudos: 575
Collections: Happy Steve Bingo 2019





	i'll take care of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bardingbeedle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardingbeedle/gifts).

> For my "caught in a downpour/storm" square from Happy Steve Bingo. 
> 
> Thanks to Ferret for the beta, and to Beedle for the wonderful prompt!

“Hi.”

Steve blinks. The sound of loud thunder roars outside, but he doesn’t jolt, too focused on the image in front of him to be startled by the noise. 

He has no idea what to say, and he isn’t sure if the shock is because of Tony’s absolutely _ sodden _state – his hair glued to his forehead, his clothes dripping with water, forming a small puddle in front of Steve’s door – or because he wasn’t expecting to see Tony for at least three more days.

“Hi?” he says, a little tentative, before his brain catches up to reality. In his defense, he was getting ready to sleep when Tony knocked. He looks at what Tony is holding – a wet mess that seems to have been a flower bouquet at some point. “What are you doing here?”

Tony lets out a sigh that he seems to have been holding down for hundreds of years. “I forgot the flowers,” he says.

Steve looks at the bouquet again, just to check that he isn’t, in fact, delusional and isn’t dreaming up his boyfriend showing up at his apartment at almost 1.a.m. while it’s pouring outside, and also when said boyfriend was supposed to be in Hong Kong. “You’re holding them.”

“No,” Tony breathes, and it’s only then that Steve realizes he sounds exhausted, and looks it too. “No, I mean—I was supposed to have arrived earlier, but I forgot the flowers. And I thought about calling Happy and asking him to take me to the store, but he was already on his break, and I think he’s going to meet May, and—” He stops himself, seemingly realizing his rambling. His eyelashes are dark with water, one or two drips still holding in between a couple of them. “I thought I could just get to the store and pick up the flowers myself. Of course, that was before the world started to fall apart.”

“Right,” Steve says. He steps aside, gesturing for Tony to come in, still taking in how drenched he is. “But—but what are you _ doing _here?”

Tony wobbles inside, nearly limping, and Steve is filled with worry when he catches sight of how thin his shirt is. He doesn’t wait for Tony’s response, already running inside to grab the first towel he finds in his bathroom.

“I’m—” Tony is interrupted by a shiver, complete with teeth chatter. Steve, only sort of panicking, throws the towel around him, bringing Tony closer to the center of his living room. “I’m being a good boyfriend,” he finishes.

Steve, who’s mentally cursing out both his heater for being broken and himself for not having taken up Tony’s offers to fix it earlier, can barely grasp what he means. “You’re—What?”

“I—” Tony stutters. He’s still shivering, and Steve hurries to grab two more towels and throw them over his shoulder before he realizes he should probably try getting Tony out of his wet clothes instead. He starts by trying to slip his soaked blazer off his arms, but Tony gestures, still holding the destroyed bouquet. “I’m here. You thought I wouldn’t be, but I am. And I… I bought you flowers.”

Steve frowns. Sometimes Tony does this thing where he’s twisted a thought in his mind so many times he seems to believe Steve can read it, and so when he talks, it’s as if he thinks there’s already a conversation happening. 

“I thought you wouldn’t be in the city”, Steve agrees slowly, trying to find some common ground. Tony nods emphatically.

“Right,” he says, and then sneezes. Steve goes back to the task of taking off his blazer. “But I’m here. I managed to get Pepper to let me go earlier.” He tilts his head, eyeing Steve with something that seems both expectant and a little nervous. “I know I’m a little late, but it’s not tomorrow before you fall asleep, and I really wanted to be here for our anniversary.”

Steve stops. Stares. Blinks.

“Tony,” he starts, unsure of how to do this, before deciding to just go right to the point: “Today is not our anniversary.”

“’Course it is,” Tony counters, his brow furrowing.

“Uh,” Steve says. “No, it isn’t. It’s next week.”

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No. It’s—Today is the 19th.” Tony’s voice grows a little hesitant. “…Isn’t it?”

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket and places it in Tony’s hand so he can see the date.

“…It isn’t,” Tony says. “I.” He blinks for a moment, adjusting to the information. “How could I have thought it was?”

Steve knows well how – by keeping crazy hours working on projects and only going to sleep when absolute exhaustion hits, completely messing up his biological clock. But this isn’t the time to go into another lecture about Tony’s work habits. “Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he says instead. He loosens Tony’s tie, taking advantage of the way he’s staring blankly ahead to start unbuttoning his shirt.

“I was so sure it was today,” Tony says in a small voice. “Happy even asked me, because of course, I must have told him the date before, but I _ insisted _it was today.”

The mention of Happy brings something else to Steve’s mind. “Wait. Happy left you here right before the end of his shift? And then you went to get the flowers?”

The flower shop is just two stations from Steve’s block. Happy’s shift ends at eight, and, considering Steve’s clock just marked fifteen minutes past one a.m., it doesn’t add up.

Tony says nothing.

Steve drags his eyes to his face, studying it carefully.

“Did you get lost on the subway?”

“No,” Tony says, his cheeks flushing.

Steve holds his stare.

“Okay, fine, I did.” There’s a strident note in his voice, and a burst of fondness floods Steve’s chest. “I messed it up, okay? It was supposed to be—I wanted to—” He gestures aimlessly with the soaked flowers. “I messed it all up.”

Steve can’t help but smile. Having finished opening Tony’s shirt, he raises his hand to Tony’s face, gently cupping his cheek: “There are lots of lines in New York,” he says, even though he knows for a fact that if Tony had ever used the subway more than, maybe, once in his life, he wouldn’t find it hard. He keeps this knowledge out of his tone, though; the difference in their upbring is always jarring when it rears its head like this, and he knows it makes Tony feel uncomfortable and guilty, even though it’s not really his fault. “It can be complicated.”

Tony’s eyes don’t buy his reassurance. “I’m an idiot,” he croaks.

“No,” Steve says, final. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Tony’s wet cheek, lowering his hands to rub the towels against his shoulders gently. “You’re a good boyfriend.”

Tony lets out a humorless laugh. Steve doesn’t reply, though, focused on slipping the shirt off of Tony’s torso. His tanned skin gleams with leftover sprinkles of water. Steve brings both ends of the towel to the middle of Tony’s chest, enveloping him in it.

“Let’s sit down,” he orders, and Tony goes along, his disappointment still clear in his expression.

They both sink onto Steve’s couch. Steve busies himself taking off Tony’s sneakers, a little horrified by how wet his socks are. If Tony weren’t so upset, Steve would use this opportunity to make a point about the importance of function over style when it comes to shoes. He doesn’t, though, rubbing the towel in fast strokes against Tony’s feet to warm them up.

Tony lets out a pleased little noise that Steve enjoys probably more than he should, his cheeks heating and fodness curling low in his belly. He lets go of Tony’s feet to pick up the towel over Tony’s shoulders and take it over his head, his movements a little clumsy over Tony’s hair. He’s making a mess of it, but at least it isn’t dripping water anymore.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Tony says, but his own voice sounds a little distant, almost dazed. “I mean, geez—I wanted to surprise you, and now here you are, having to take care of me.”

Steve presses a light kiss against his shoulder. “I like taking care of you,” he says, both too casual and too honest.

He decides not to watch for Tony’s reaction, standing up and walking quickly to his bedroom. He picks up a sweater from his closet – it’s a little loose on him, so it should fit Tony just fine – and a pair of sweatpants that, come to think of it, are probably Tony’s anyway. On his way back, he also comes by the bathroom, picking up a comb.

“Here,” he says, stretching the sweater’s head hole to beckon Tony to come closer. He does, and Steve pulls the sweater over his body, enjoying the feel of the wool over Tony’s solid, lean shape. “Take your pants off.”

Tony still somehow has it in him to do a little eyebrow wriggle in response, but then another sneeze forces him to focus and follow Steve’s lead. He puts on the sweatpants, and Steve stands up for a moment to size up the result.

It’s… oddly comforting, to see Tony in such cuddly clothes. Steve kind of wants to wrap a blanket around him, which, now that he’s thinking about it, might actually be a good idea.

He hurries to his bedroom again to pick up his old, extremely warm and comfortable duvet, and when he goes back, Tony’s eyes widen.

“Are planning to smother me with covers?” Steve ignores him, having a little difficulty opening up the duvet – it’s a little overwhelming to hold. “Is that what we’re doing?”

“Yup,” Steve says, finally just throwing the duvet over Tony’s body, pulling at the end to leave his face uncovered. “You figured me out. That’s exactly the plan.”

Tony blinks, and Steve has to smile at how he looks right now – literally a ball of fabric and covers with a lonely head on top.

He picks up the comb, and Tony’s gaze turns hesitant.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gestures at the bird’s nest mess his hair has become. “I can fix it in the morning, you know. You’re doing all this work…”

“And I’m fine doing it,” Steve completes. Then he adds, “I _ want _to do it.”

Tony looks up at him, lips pressed together in a thin line, and Steve just—really, really means it. He wants to take care of him so badly.

_ Let me_, he thinks, silently hoping Tony can somehow read his mind.

It’s unclear if it works, but Tony nods, slowly, and Steve smiles.

He runs the comb through Tony’s hair, taming the wet curls. The result reminds him of the Tony he used to see in the news, with his hair slicked back with expensive gel. That was way before Steve knew him as a person, and even longer before Steve started knowing him as _ Tony _. He looked handsome then, as he does now, but still the difference in setting coils up Steve’s insides, makes something warm and gooey flood his chest.

It doesn’t take much work with the comb to fix the mess Steve made with the towels. Still, Tony hums as Steve continues, small, pleased noises seemingly coming from the back of his throat, each one filling Steve with nearly unbearable fondness.

When he finishes, Tony’s eyes are closed, and, when Steve steps away to place the comb on a side table, Tony clumsily reaches out for him, shifting the duvet enough that his arm looks like a foreign object, raised awkwardly under the covers.

“C’mere,” Tony mumbles, his voice raspy as if he’s about to fall asleep. The duvet moves as - Steve assumes - Tony raises his other arm, and even though he can’t see it, Steve would bet actual money he’s making grabby hands. “Come on.”

“Calm down, duvet monster,” Steve says, fumbling until he finds one end of the duvet to pull up just enough to slide inside. His reward is the touch of Tony’s hands, warm and familiar as they pull Steve to a surface he recognizes as Tony’s lap. Pretty soon he’s enveloped by warmth and softness, as if he’s stepped inside a cloud.

“Sorry for being a mess,” Tony whispers, his chin over Steve’s head. Steve looks up just enough to scowl at him.

“Stop saying that,” he scolds, and Tony chuckles softly.

“Okay,” he says, pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

His eyes are closed, but Steve keeps watching him, wrapped in the lines around his mouth, the subtle but delicate curl of his lashes. “Thank you for the flowers,” he whispers, because it occurs to him he should, and he hadn't yet. “And for being a great boyfriend.”

Tony’s arms tighten around him. Steve thinks he shivers, but it might be just an impression. “You’re welcome. Thank you for being you.” The words float between them, Steve’s heart swelling, and maybe Tony catches on the weight of it, because he adds: “Now, how about we get some sleep?”

Steve leans in against his chest and reaches up to press a kiss on his neck. “Good idea.”

Tony hums, clearly already beginning to doze off, and Steve nestles closer, his head over Tony’s chest. He’s overwhelmed by that same warm, gooey feeling, and his body feels like goo, too, melting against Tony’s.

He closes his eyes. The rain roars outside, but all he can hear is Tony’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I highly welcome kudos and comments. You can also reblog the fic on tumblr [here](https://elcorhamletlive.tumblr.com/post/189023723835/ill-take-care-of-you-nanasekei-marvel).


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